


that she will keep returning always and evermore

by mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 13:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2193183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrinneyFriday/pseuds/mygalfriday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times the Doctor says goodbye to River Song and one time he says hello.</p>
            </blockquote>





	that she will keep returning always and evermore

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for 8x01. Written quickly so I’m sorry for any major mistakes. Story title from Into My Arms by Nick Cave

_1}_

 

As a rule, the Doctor never says goodbye. Goodbyes are sad and messy and _final_. He doesn’t like the idea of finality, not when he has a time machine. Goodbyes remind him that there are some things that cannot be repeated, not even for a time traveler. The very idea of no longer being able to repeat this night is a very sad one indeed. Technically, it has been a very long night – weeks of languorous beaches and starry nights and long mornings spent running his hands over every inch of River Song. 

 

“Don’t look so glum, my love.” She laughs softly, eyes bright green against the crack of lightning outside Stormcage. “You’ll see me again tomorrow night.”

 

He pouts, hands on her hips as they linger just outside her cell. “That’s _ages_.”

 

She grins, swaying into him, the warm lushness of her pressed all against him. “Careful, honey. I’m starting to think you’re besotted with me.”

 

“Only starting?” He touches his forehead to hers. “I’ll have to try harder.”

 

“Sap.” She leans up on her toes, presses her mouth to his. She goes to pull away too quickly and he makes a small noise of protest, cradling her head in his hands and keeping her close, lingering over the taste of her and the soft curl of her lips.

 

“Stay a little longer,” he mumbles, eyes still shut.

 

She shakes her head. “If I stay any longer, I’ll never leave.”

 

“Good. Stay with me, Song.”

 

“Unfortunately, prison sentences don’t serve themselves.” She eyes him fondly. “Now go on, I have a cell to redecorate. I’m thinking pastels.”

 

He huffs, still refusing to relinquish his hold on her. Logically, he knows that she has to stay here and he knows that she will. It’s only, he isn’t ready to say goodbye. He likes having her on his TARDIS all the time, likes waking up with her curled around him. He likes sitting at the kitchen table in the mornings and watching her glare sleepily at her tea. He likes watching her dress for a night out, zipping up her dress and bending over the mirror to touch up her lipstick. He likes looking up from the TARDIS console and finding River across from him and looking right back. Domesticity suits him in a way he never thought it would. Probably because it’s River he’s being domestic with.

 

Sensing his reluctance, River reaches up a hand to stroke his cheek, eyes soft and understanding. “Four thousand consecutive life sentences, remember? We’ve got plenty of time.”

 

He smiles, knowing it’s true. There is still so much more to come for both of them – nights of running and romance, nights of laughter and trouble and lovemaking. This is just their first. He kisses her again, softly this time, and forces his fingers to release their hold on her hips, taking a step back.

 

River watches him quietly as he sonics her cell shut, curling her fingers around the bars. The sight of her there, about to spend her very first night in prison because of him, is almost enough to make him run back to her side. Instead, he takes another step back, eyes on hers as he offers her a sloppy salute.

 

“See you tomorrow, wife.”

 

_2}_

 

“Don’t go.”

 

River pauses in the middle of flipping the lever that will send them into the vortex and take her home. Her gaze is pained but determined, the lines of grief still heavy around her eyes. “I have to.”

 

Slumped miserably in the jump seat and watching her pilot his ship, the Doctor pushes away the ache in his chest and scowls. “You want to, you mean.”

 

“No. You know if I could I would never leave you, my love.” River lifts her head and looks at him, really looks at him for the first time since they lost Amy and Rory two days ago. She is older now than he’s seen her in a very long while but her eyes look young – lost, afraid, and just a little angry. “But we’ll never heal if I don't.”

 

Anger towards her rises so quickly to the surface that it frightens him and he bites out, “So you’re just going to leave? We just lost Amy and Rory, River. We _lost_ them.” His eyes sting but he squares his jaw resolutely. “You can’t just go. I -”

 

_Need you._

 

River flinches like he’d said the words aloud, guilt clouding her expression for just a moment before it clears. “You don’t need me, sweetie. You need someone to distract you. Someone new who can help you forget. I can’t be that for you.”

 

“You could.” He feels like a petulant child but he doesn’t want someone new. He wants River, with Amy’s smile and Rory’s nose. River, who makes everything better by stroking his hair and telling him it won’t hurt forever. No one can make him forget his grief like River can.

 

Sighing, she lands the TARDIS neatly and with the brakes off. She turns to look at him and one glance at the monitor over her shoulder tells him they’ve landed outside her house on Luna. He wonders if she’d let him stay with her, since she refuses to stay with him.

 

“Maybe,” she admits quietly, and drapes herself over his lap, curling up like a child. He wraps his arms tightly around her, grateful to have her close just for a little while longer. River tucks her head under his chin, hands gripping his bowtie. “Maybe I could help you grieve, move on. Help you find someone new to travel with and leave you happier than I’m going to now.” She pauses, breath puffing softly against his neck. “But what about me?”

 

He frowns, fingers tracing the curve of her spine.

 

“How can I mourn my parents properly if I’m looking after you? We both need to grieve and we can’t do it together. You need me stronger than I am right now, sweetie. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us if I stayed.”

 

“I could look after you.” His voice is a weak rasp but he holds her tighter, keeping her on his lap. “We could look after each other.”

 

River lifts her head, smiling sadly. “In a perfect world, maybe. But we both know your grief is far too selfish for that.” When he flinches away from her, she cups his cheek in her hand, eyes soft and blameless. “For once, I’m going to be selfish too.”

 

He lowers his eyes, unable to protest. He can’t ask her to put him first in this, would never forgive himself if he did. River strokes her fingers through his hair, chin on his shoulder as she gazes at him. Her fingers are gentle and comforting, her eyes tired and rimmed red, but eternally patient. “It’s not forever, you know,” she whispers. “Just for a while.”

 

He nods, swallowing. “I know.”

 

“My dashing boy,” she murmurs, and traces a fingertip over his cheek. “Kiss me goodbye?”

 

He does.

 

_3}_

 

He watches her slip silently from bed, watches the soft curves of her bare body as she wanders the room picking up her clothes for the last time. The urge to scream is overwhelming. Instead, he blinks away tears and memorizes the way she wiggles into her knickers and the way her curls bounce around her shoulders when she tugs her hair free of the confines of her dress. He watches her fasten her bracelet and slip into her shoes, wondering if years from now, he’ll be able to remember what she smelled like.

 

He closes his eyes, breathing in deeply. Time. Lightning. Dust. Chamomile and honeysuckle.

 

The sound of her picking up her knapsack makes his eyes snap open and he sits up instantly, pushing away the sheet at his waist. River glances up, wincing. “Sorry sweetie, I was trying to be quiet.” She smiles and he drinks it in hungrily, a knot forming in his stomach. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

 

He tries to imagine waking up to an empty room, River gone forever, and shudders. “Without kissing me goodbye?” He manages a thin, shaky smile. “For shame, Professor.”

 

She rolls her eyes, tucking her diary and her brand new sonic screwdriver into her bag. “I think you had plenty of kisses from me last night, Time Lord.”

 

His eyes sting and he blinks hurriedly, smile slipping. “Not nearly enough.”

 

River freezes, watching him warily. “Sweetie?”

 

“Come back to bed.”

 

“I can’t.” Her brow furrows with regret, telling him without words how much she wishes she could. “I’ve got a meeting at the University about my expedition this morning. We’re leaving in a week and Mr. Lux has added some new addition to his waiver. If I don’t leave now, I might not have time to mock him before I tear it in half.”

 

His hearts swell and he purses his lips tightly. “My bad girl.”

 

“Always.” She winks, bustling quickly to his side, knapsack slung over her shoulder and looking entirely out of place with her evening gown from last night. She leans in to kiss him quickly but he grabs her, holding on tight. She makes a soft noise of surprise and then melts into him, mouth opening to his needy tongue and small hand settling in his hair. He quickly catalogues everything, the warmth of her pressed against him, the taste of her like a home he will never know again.

 

She pulls away far too soon, cheeks flushed a becoming shade of pink and lips bruised. “Well, goodbye to you too.”

 

“Be safe.”

 

“Never.”

 

She laughs, standing and adjusting her knapsack, walking toward their bedroom door. He watches in a stupor, already drowning in the loss of her, but when she reaches their door and takes one step out, panic wells up inside of him like a tidal wave. When she walks out that door, he’ll never see her again. He needs to see her face, just once more.

 

“River.”

 

His voice comes out panicked and pleading with undertones of _please don’t leave me please don’t leave me_ but he doesn’t care because River turns instantly to look at him, green eyes sharp and full of concern. “Sweetie? Are you feeling alright?”

 

It occurs to him suddenly that he will never be loved so fiercely again.

 

“Fine.” He manages a tight smile. “I just miss you already.”

 

Her eyes light up and she beams. “Careful, honey. I’m starting to think you’re besotted with me.”

 

“Good.”

 

_4}_

 

Letting her go the first time hurt more than enough for eleven lifetimes. He doesn’t want to do it again. But he does, because it’s time to stop being selfish.

 

“See you around, Professor River Song.”

 

It tastes like goodbye. Final. Absolute.

 

Like the heavy weight of ash on his tongue.

 

He watches her fade away and wishes he’d said _I love you_ instead.

 

_5}_

 

There’s just enough time for one last phone call.

 

His future self will be just fine – Clara will make sure of that – but he needs to make sure someone else will be fine too. Or maybe he isn’t through being selfish after all because what he wants more than anything before he goes is to hear her voice. Just one last time.

 

She picks up on the third ring, sounding half asleep but oh so wonderful. “Doctor?”

 

“How did you know?”

 

“I always know.”

 

He smiles through the pain, shutting his eyes. “Yes, you did. Did I ever tell you how much I love that about you?”

 

She hums quietly. “Once or twice. What’s wrong?”

 

“Who said anything was wrong?”

 

“You never call. If nothing was wrong, you’d just turn up.”

 

“My clever girl.” He bites his lip, wavering a little as he leans against the wall, clutching the phone to his ear. “I may be dying a bit.”

 

Her sharp intake of breath makes him wince. “Where are you?”

 

“In a galaxy far far away.”

 

“Doctor, _where are you_?”

 

“You can’t be here, honey. I’m sorry.”

 

“Then why call?” She sounds angry but it’s better than crying. He can’t stand the thought of her crying. “Why torture me like this -”

 

“Because I need you. I’m…scared.”

 

He hears her sniffle over the line and curses himself. “Oh, my love. You’ll be fine. You always are.”

 

“Still not ginger. Apparently I’ve gone _gray_.” She stifles a choked laugh at his distress and he can picture her if he closes his eyes, sitting up in bed, all sleep-rumpled and teary eyed, clutching her telephone. The thought of her makes the space between his hearts ache. “I love you, River Song.”

 

After a long pause, she sniffles again. “I know.”

 

“Course you do. Was never very good at hiding it, was I?”

 

“It was a bit embarrassing, honestly.”

 

He laughs and it hurts but he welcomes it.

 

“I love you too, you know.” Her voice wavers but she soldiers on, just like she always does. “You were thoughtless and selfish and clumsy but you were mine. My Doctor.”

 

“Always yours, River. Always.”

 

He can hear her smiling. “And completely.”

 

Outside the TARDIS, he can hear Clara approaching. It’s time.

 

He drops the phone.

 

_1}_

 

As a rule, the Doctor doesn’t like to say goodbye. Goodbyes are sad and messy and _final_. He doesn’t like the idea of finality, not when it comes to River Song.

 

He lands silently in her bedroom, pausing just outside the door to tug at his coat and run older, weathered fingers over his older, weathered face. There’s no reason to be worried, of course. River has always been able to see the old man beneath the baby face. Now, he’s just made it a bit easier for her.

 

Drawing in a quiet breath, he pulls open the TARDIS doors and steps out. She’s still sitting on her bed, just as he’d pictured her. The blankets pooled at her waist, her nightgown rumpled and her hair even more so. She still clutches the phone in her hand, her eyes tearful and devastated. She hasn’t even noticed him yet, staring at the phone like the weight of her gaze alone might bring him back.

 

The Doctor clears his throat.

 

River looks up, startled. She stares at him and he allows himself to be studied, meeting her gaze steadily.

 

_See me._

 

Slowly, her grip on the telephone lessens and she offers him a wobbly smile. “You still look too young for your age.”

 

He snorts. “Hello, dear.”


End file.
